The Story
Tribe Vibe: There is no Master Plan
This article is the latest in The DoG Street Journal's weekly series of opinions pieces, "Tribe Vibe." Tribe Vibe discusses the most important aspects of William and Mary, the Tribe and life in Williamsburg.
“Congratulations! You are the Realistic Type!”
This is the result I got on a “What College Majors Will Match Your Personality?” quiz I recently took. The title of the quiz begs the question of what a major really is. In my opinion, it is not an indicator of personality and, unfortunately, not an exact future you can depend on (something that “will” match), but more of just a probability (something that only “might” fit).
And so, apparently, I am realistic. Which is funny, because that’s one term I have never heard from professors, advisers, or (most of all) from my parents and grandparents. See, I’m almost done with a major in anthropology and one to match in philosophy. Two of the least “realistic” majors - both a far cry from the “engineering, agriculture, animal science, construction, landscaping, police work, fire science, architecture, park ranger” suggestions that this quiz deemed realistic. (Fire science?)
It feels funky to reminisce as a second-semester senior on decisions I have just finished making. I do have some advice.
The Major Dilemma
The first thing my freshman roommate ever told me was that she had decided to major in economics. But throughout our first year, she changed from econ to international relations to “farming” to business to French. She’d draft and re-draft four-year (or three-and-a-half-year) plans for the classes she needed to take.
“What do you actually like to do?” I asked her once.
“Hmm … reading?” That covered a lot of ground. A little hard to narrow down. I suggested an English major, an idea that was shot down, for fear of encountering Shakespeare and Chaucer after a near-fatal encounter in high school.
Four years later, she graduated with a degree in English.
If I learned anything about pathways during college, I learned that there is no set path. There is no master plan. And there is no right and wrong. There is only you, with your suitcase, your box of pictures, your coffeemaker, your schoolbooks, and any dreams you bring along, which might be fresh or possibly frayed at the edges.
That said, by the time we complete 54 credits, we are required to narrow our studies into one, two or maybe three categories. The College offers 46 majors, some with various sub-concentrations. There are an additional 47 minors and three “secondary majors” (education and environmental studies and science, which are taken along with another major).
I chose anthropology in my second year, trying to figure out what other more “realistic” major I would want to pair it with. I quickly abandoned realism with a zeal that I have never stopped questioning and declared a second major in philosophy weeks later. A career in humanities or social science is tricky - one can only sketch it out as they go along.
Some people opt for the interdisciplinary major in the hope of finding a program that is “uniquely tailored” (as quoted on the Charles Center’s Web site). It seems like a lot of work, because the student needs to plan the credits with an adviser and get approved by a special committee. To decide on an interdisciplinary major, you need to be set on knowing what you want to do. It’s not an honor, it’s a focus (which sometimes might feel like an honor).
Finding, Loving, Hating Advisers
I have recently learned that some departments assign advisers. This seems like a luxury to me, after slurping around in certain departments looking for an open door and an unwitting professor or two. (Believe me, the irony never went unnoticed.) Yet, I’m sure an assigned adviser could have their downfalls too.
This year’s Adviser of the Year was Dr. Lizabeth A. Allison, professor and chair of the biology department. When asked about her style, she said, “I offer friendship, practical advice for navigating GER and major requirements, the opportunity to talk about extracurricular activities, families, roommates, and life in general, and support and encouragement…”
This kind of involvement is truly rare. If you don’t find a professor who can be angel, counselor and adviser simultaneously, don’t take it personally. To some profs, it’s just a formality. Like paying taxes or getting your car inspected.
(Another professor to watch out for: last year’s Adviser of the Year was Dr. George Greenia, Spanish professor who was also knighted by the Spanish government.)
Deciding to Navigate or Avoid Honors
Honors can be make it or break it. And no, I don’t mean you will forever be shunned for not doing honors. I mean that it takes up two semesters of your life - a whole academic year or more (often more). Working on honors while going to school (minimum 12 credit hours per semester for full-time students) is challenging and risky.
Honors has the potential to be quite painful. Before it’s even official (that is, usually junior year), you come up with your topic, find an adviser, apply to the Charles Center, apply to the department, and perhaps run your experimentation method through the human subjects board or another ethics committee.
Post-writing, you can expect to submit the paper to your committee and present an oral defense that lasts at least one hour.
Still, it gives you the chance to find something you really love, then research it, write about it and present it to a field of experts. Graduate schools usually consider graduating with honors a plus, too.
Last year 135 students did honors projects, not even ten percent of the mass of 1,400 undergrads getting their diplomas in May. It’s not crucial. But it is a big decision.
In the end, what might make you a great engineer might also make you a great anthropologist or biologist or kinesiology student. You may or may not decide you have time for honors. You may or may not find a good adviser. What matters is what desires and goals you bring to the table and where you decide to go with them. You bring the dreams, and the rest will fall into place.
Jonna Knappenberger is a former Editor in Chief and an opinions contributor for The DSJ. Her views do not necessarily represent those of the entire staff.